Of a Poor Goth and a Real Vampire
by Nae'ka
Summary: Old human memories were insisting he should be annoyed at the site of them, faint notions of revenge that Mike couldn't quite bring himself to get that worked up over any more. After all, they were old wounds and more importantly, dead ones... VampiRed
1. Chapter 1

I'm just uploading this to see if anyone's interested in seeing more.

I wrote Red and Cursed-Cat from deviantart wrote Mike's/Vampir's side.

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><p>South Park smelt weird, he'd never really noticed it before but then his sense of smell was a lot better than it had been the last time he'd been here. A weird sort of cloying thing that wrapped, almost welcoming around him and left a sour taste in the back of his throat. The snow however was far more familiar, though he felt a slight pang of loss when the cold didn't bite quite as harshly as he remembered.<p>

This late at night the streets were deserted, and he cursed softly to himself as he trudged through the knee deep snow. It had taken him longer to get here then he'd expected and already the night sky had the warning tint of dawn to it and he really needed to find somewhere to hole up for the day. But all the ideal places to do so that he remembered so well had changed, and half an hour into standing stock still outside of his old house had convinced him that, that too, was no longer an option.

Which left... well his current predicament really.

Cursing harder and, not for the first time, regretting the decision to stop for a quick snack earlier, he pushed on and tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to ignore the aching loneliness his sire usually filled. Just as his skin was starting that first itching burn a more than welcome sight in the distance caught his eye and he grinned (but only for a moment before he caught himself, and replaced it with the small smirk he'd been practicing so hard. It was getting pretty damn good, even if he did say so himself). His back straightened and, smirk still in place he stalked towards the familiar diner.

Then gave up 7 paces in and resigned himself to a half trudge, half shuffle. All right, so it wouldn't be as dramatic an entrance but some things you just couldn't pull off in the snow, and apparently a proper stalk was one of them. At this time of the night, it wasn't like anyone would be in the damn place anyway.

The Red Goth leaned back against the seat of their booth, enjoying the warmth emitting under his fingers from his cup of coffee. So far, the day had been like every other day: unbearably painful and dull. He closed his eyes and listened to his fellow Goths chatter about their days, conformist teachers, fellow students and worst of all, family.

There was nothing he had to add to the conversation today, having said all he felt the need to say. Henrietta was the one doing the most talking, being particularly pissed at her flamboyant, arrogant, immortal brother for destroying something in her room.

Red finished off his coffee and set it back on the table, waiting for the overweight and irritated waitress to bitch about filling it up as she did so. Her patronizing tone was now a regular part of his life and there was something about the way things always were that made him feel secure… Like he had a life worth living. Sure, a day-to-day life that never changed was sort of what he was taught to hate, as a Goth, but it was comfortable. He idly wondered if the others noticed the monotony of their lives…

Probably.

He almost smiled when, as predicted, the waitress he had grown accustomed to, stomped up to their table and began her regular bitching.

"Damn it! Are you kids just going to sit around all night and drink coffee again?"

Red nodded, keeping a smile off his face as he gave a snarky remark, "You know the answer to that."

And she did. His cup was quickly filled and back warming up his hands in a matter of seconds. It was always the same, wonderful, process. That was the difference between the way the conformists went about their days and the way he went about his. His day was made of dark reflections, in notebooks and his face in his coffee as he took a sip… Conformists, like the waitress, didn't know pain and therefore couldn't properly enjoy the bitter taste as sweetly as a Goth could.

"Conformist."

"Ch, yeah."

Despite being almost empty, the sudden life and sound of the diner shocked him enough to pause, briefly, in the doorway. Then the tingling of his skin kicked him into motion again and he stalked (damn he was getting good at this stuff) to a booth at the back where it was darkest.

He slid into the seat and then with a sign lent back against the stiff plastic cushions. This wasn't an ideal place to hide out from the sun really, but it'd have to do. He just hoped he wouldn't get thrown out at any point... that would be awkward. And probably messy. A moment of almost human panic hit him and Mike lifted his hips slightly to dig through his pockets for his wallet. Stupid human concerns.

He frowned as he dug through the battered leather of the thing, it was this sort of paranoid human-ness that so annoyed his sire. He *knew* he had more than enough cash stuffed into the thing, hell he'd stocked up from his last snacks wallet. Yet he still couldn't resist the temptation to double check. From the corner of his eye he caught movement and turned just as the waitress appeared in front of his booth.

"What do you want?" She asked, her tone bored and nasally and Mike froze, floundering. He knew what he wanted to order, but somehow he didn't think the diner served blood... and he couldn't for the life of him (unlife damn it) think of what would be appropriate. The last thing he wanted to do was draw un-needed attention to himself. Desperately he cast his eyes about the diner, searching for inspiration and then the familiar shock of red and black hair caught his attention and he froze. He bit back a snarl and stared, raptly, at the group with a mixture of old hatred and, strangely, slight appreciation.  
>"Well?" The waitress demanded, snapping his attention back to her and after a brief pause he smirked and leant back in his seat.<p>

"Coffee."

Quickly flipping his hair out of his face to see into his messenger bag, Red quickly pulled out his poetry book. It was nothing real special, a cheap grey notebook pulled out of the lost and found (with an amazing red scarf, which he kept well hidden from the other Goths) and scribbled over. It was amazing how much free stuff conformists at their school 'donated' to him. Perfectly good English notebooks, sketchbooks, regular books… All you needed to do was pull out a few pages, put a sticker or two on it and it was yours.

Red flipped his hair once more and began to write lyrics to a song that he was sure Curly and the rest of the band would never even look at. They would say they would…

'Tears of darkness fall, overwhelming me.  
>I see nothing, only suffering intimately shared with the world…<br>With no one.  
>My soul begs for release from a cruel world…<br>Blood pours from ever orifice.'

… Orifice?

Red shook his head, disgusted with the imagery he had given himself. He promptly scratched that out, the ink in his pen almost ripping through the page.

'Blood pours from every pore'

Pours and pore… No, that didn't work well either.

He growled and roughly slammed his pen onto the table, ready to ask for help from Georgie (the silent brat was amazing with words), but stopped when he felt himself being watched.

Looking around him proved futile, only various patrons chattering to each other and waitresses being rude as usual…

"What is it?"

Red looked up at the sound of Henrietta's voice. Did he interrupt her? He couldn't remember if she was talking or not… "N-nothing." He picked up his coffee again.

"You throw a hissy fit and nothing's wrong?"

He just shrugged, looking over his glass at the wall next to him.

The coffee was bitter and not at all palatable but Mike found himself sipping at it more for something to do then anything else. If nothing else, the heat of it was pleasant, a faint reminder of something he didn't have to worry about any longer. Absent-mindedly he took another sip of the dark liquid, eyes still locked unwaveringly on the group of Goths, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't instantly viable himself from where they were sitting.

Ah, the joys of vampire eyesight.

Old human memories were insisting he should be annoyed at the site of them, faint notions of revenge that Mike couldn't quite bring himself to get that worked up over any more. After all, they were old wounds and more importantly, dead ones. Still, the group was oddly fascinating to him, and really, it wasn't like there was anything more interesting to watch in this place. Idly he found himself studying the red-haired Goth (what was his name? He couldn't remember if he'd just never known it, or if it was just another thing he'd forgotten after the change), attention grabbed like a cat by the flash of red and black whenever he flipped his hair from his eyes.

The waitresses appeared at his side again, and he bit back a snarl at the interruption, schooling his expression into something approaching casual indifference (or at least, he hoped so) and accepting the re-fill with a stiff smile. Her snort of disdain had him clenching his teeth, fighting the urge (want, need) to lunge across the table and rip her throat off. It was pretty much only his self-preservation and a distinct desire not to find out what burning to death felt like that stopped him. He settled on glaring at her instead as she stomped off.

Another sip of coffee and Mike relaxed further back into the hard cushions of the booth, taking up his new hobby of Goth-watching again, and smiling slightly as (name, name, what is his name?) Red slammed his pen against the table. When the boy twisted round to glance about the room Mike frowned and scooted back a bit more. Then frowned and shuffled back to where he'd been, stupid human instincts to hide. The coffee was bitter on his tongue and he found himself craving something a lot sweeter, eyes settling on the soft throb Red's (Ugh, that'll have to do for now) pulse, feeling the hot pressure in his stomach starting up already, it was weird to feel it without the pressing hunger it usually came with though, and Mike lost himself to the sensations a little bit.

"Look," Evan glanced at his cellphone, checking the time. "It's late, I need to get home."

Henrietta was already packing her things and Georgie gave a single nod in agreement. Dylan finished off his coffee and sighed as the others started to leave. "Hey, I paid two days ago."

It was already too late, they had left the restaurant.

He sighed and slowly packed his pen away, along with his notebook and a few packets of the free jelly and honey they had at every table. He had tried to keep his general financial situation on the down-low, but after knowing him for so many years, he had hoped that his group would notice a bit. He usually ended up paying for their coffee times. He had considered getting a job himself, if only to pay for these trips and various clothes he needed… But he was too lazy. He knew he'd be fired within a week.

Petty thievery would just have to do until he graduated high school. Then what? Then nothing, so far. He had nothing planned, just figuring that things would happen as usual. It was thoughts like that, that helped him focus on the present. He could handle the daily challenges, as long as his group was there for him.

He slowly stood up, flinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed to the counter. When he got there, a waitress that was different from his own rolled her eyes as he approached.

"Table 7, right?" She asked in a particularly nasally voice, eyeing him up like some… slop that had just insulted her.

He shoved his free hand in his pocket, feeling around for the stray cash he had always kept there. (He's not good with keeping track of wallets…) Finding his tiny wad, he pulled out the crumply bill or two and the spare change that was sprinkled over it. "Yeah, how much?"

"Seven fifty."

He looked up at her quickly, eyes going wide. Fuck.

"You hear me?"

"Y-yeah." He didn't need to count out his money to know that he only had around four and a half dollars. Swallowing hard, he shook his head a bit. "Actually, I think I'm going to stay a bit longer." He slowly began to turn around, ignoring the woman's scoff behind him. Stupid conformist, whatever she was thinking didn't matter to him. Who cares.

Just as he was about to head back to his table, though, he felt himself being watched again. This time, however, his eyes landed right on the culprit… and it wasn't the waitress.

"… Y… You!"


	2. Chapter 2

Review if you'd like an update... Or I'll just keep it on dA. Haha, Fanfiction is a lot of work.

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><p>The coffee, Mike decided pretty quickly, was a pathetic substitute for what he wanted but it would have to do. At least the heat of it was enough to fill that nagging void and calm the itching in his teeth while he watched the Goths. Well, while he watched 'Red' anyway, there was something about him that made Mike's instincts... twitch. The defiant slump of his shoulders and faint scowl, and every so often the vampire managed to catch a faint whiff of the boys scent. All bitter, coffee and cigarettes and something else he couldn't place that was driving him insane. He took another sip.<p>

He set his cup down on the table with a thump when the group started to leave, exceedingly unhappy at the thought of his entertainment leaving. He bit down the snarl building in his chest, schooling his face back into cool apathy he'd been instructed on but when the rest of the group trudged off without a backwards glance, leaving 'Red' on his own he couldn't help the small happy (no, sinister damn it, sinister!) smile. He felt a small, odd burst of pride when the boy pocketed the contents of the table, suddenly eerily amused at how far his morels had shifted since he'd last been in South Park. He'd have been utterly scandalized at such petty thievery before.

Dawn hadn't quite broken yet, though age-old instincts were telling Mike it wasn't far off, and it was only that vague threat that kept Mike in his seat and not attempting to make sure the Goth kid didn't leave. He growled softly and grabbed up the coffee cup to cover the sound, stupid, the last thing he needed to be doing was drawing attention to himself like that. Instead he focused on the cup in his hands, watching out of the corner of his eye as 'Red' made his way to the counter to pay. The attitude of waitress that had served him earlier hadn't got any better, and the urge to rip her throat out doubled inside him. He took another sip instead, muscles tightening.

The Goth boys scent was that much stronger now, and Mike focused on it, reveling in his enhanced senses again. He'd never get old of this stuff, and he hadn't missed the irony of the fact that he'd never felt more alive while... well, dead. The sudden change in 'Red's' scent had his head snapping up, eyes focusing on the boy, stomach tightening at the smell of distress rolling off of him. Damn humans smelling so delicious...

Then 'Red' was twisting around, looking right at him and Mike froze, faintly amused at the look of recognition on the other's face.

"… Y… You!" At the sound of the Goth's voice he grinned (careful to make it something dark, not just gleeful) leaning back slightly and raising an eyebrow in an open challenge. That little spark of pride resurfaced as 'Red' stomped over to him, expression guarded.

For a moment the full force of the boy's scent was overpowering, the rich overtones of what Mike was quickly beginning to associate with Goths (Smoke and coffee and contempt), the faint lingering smells of his companions and under it all something sweet that was just him. Fuck, he wanted to taste. Then Mike felt that little click as his brain settled into hunting mode and he leant forward slightly, eyes still fixed on the other boys.

"Yes, me."

-

Dylan looked down at the boy in front of him, eyes half lidded in a glare. He hadn't seen Makowski since they had shipped him to Scottsdale, in Arizona. The worst place on Earth. The Goth wriggled under the other's gaze, though, a bit uncomfortable with the easy and confident expression that adorned Mike's rather pointed features. He couldn't remember what, if anything, he was planning on saying when he walked over here. Averting his gaze to the table, he licked his lips and scoffed. "What are you doing back?" Didn't sound as threatening as he wanted it to… Sounded more pathetic, if anything. He scorned himself for losing his Goth voice out of surprise… Where was his group when he needed them?

-

He shifted back in his seat again, head tilting ever so slightly to the side at the other boy's question. He paused, running through reasons to speak or not in his head and then with a soft shrug he grinned.

"No particular reason, it just seemed like time." Absently he picked up the coffee cup again, nose wrinkling at the Luke-warm liquid and set it back down on the table with a grimace. The damn stuff really wasn't any better cold. He glanced back at the hovering boy, far too pleased by how uncomfortable 'Red' looked and then nodded his head at the seat across from him. "Would you like it sit? You look a bit... lost."

-

Contemplating the threat level of actually participating in social activity, especially with someone that he was sure must hate his very being, he shrugged. Sure, every bit of his mind told him to steal a tip off some recently vacant table to pay off the coffee and leave the restaurant, but there was something holding him back. A curiosity, if anything. Keeping his eyes on the table, he slowly sat down as far as he could from Mike. He needed to regain his composure...

"So you drink coffee now, huh?" He chuckled, trying to sound sarcastic, but longing for a cup himself.

-

The odd feeling of contentment when 'Red' slid into the booth in front of him was actually quite startling, and Mike almost missed the question thrown at him in response.

"Well, it's not exactly my beverage of choice, Per se. But I've had worse." He tried another sip of the cold drink and gave in, catching the bored looking waitresses eye until she started wandering, lazily, across to them. "It's yours though isn't it?" He let his voice sink into the predator's tone he was getting so much better at.

-

He didn't answer the question until the waitress had poured him a glass of coffee, needing the comfort of something Goth. The question was a simple one, but the way it was said sent shivers down Dylan's back. He couldn't figure out what must be running through the obvious conformists head.

Still avoiding eye contact as he took a sip from the scorching hot drink, he savored the taste and stared at his cup. "Always has been." He kept it simple enough to avoid any emotion coming through.

-

Mike laughed softly, taking a sip of his own drink and relishing the heat of it. The Goth's obvious unease is making the predator in his chest stretch and curl happily. He lent forward, elbows resting on the slightly sticky table top and grinned, full mouth of slightly too sharp teeth, at the other boy.

"I'm a little surprised you didn't leave with your... friends." He paused and took another sip, watching 'Red' carefully for a reaction. This really was far too much fun. "Or... is the coffee here just *that* good?"

-

Dylan couldn't help but look in to Mike's eyes, they were so... demanding. The eye contact now was much different then when they stared each other down in the school halls, all those years ago.

"My friends were done and I... uh..." Still unable to look away from Mike's face, his grip tightening over the cup, "I still have to pay for the coffee we had." He shook his head, suddenly remembering his money situation, or rather lack-there-of... "I need to get ahold of them, I'm a few dollars short." If he only had a cellphone.

He closed his eyes and covered his flushed face with the cup, taking long, slow swallows until he finished it off.

-

'Red's' stumbling reply had Mike forcing back another full-toothed grin. Instead he set of coffee cup down, shimming back again until he could hook his wallet out of his pocket, and really, he knew he looked amazing in these pants but damn if the things didn't make life difficult sometimes. He could feel the Goth's eyes on him again as he shifted back to lean on the tabletop again, wallet held loosely between his fingers.

"How much exactly?" He looked up as he spoke, catching the other boy's eyes and putting as much of his vampire instincts into making him agree. He wasn't quite sure why this seemed such an important thing to do, but hey practice was always good.

-

Dylan had to force himself to blink, to be able to look down at what Mike was holding and away from his eyes. Was he being serious? He couldn't tell, blinking a bit more as he shook his head and laughed a bit nervously. "You... want to pay for our coffee?" He wasn't one to accept charity, even though he really wanted to...

It *was* only three extra dollars though...

He bit his bottom lip, trying to find a way to save his pride. "What, you give me a few bucks and I have to succumb your vampiric hunger?" he chuckled again, trying to make fun of the only real thing he knew about Mike... that stupid Twilight fad he was into when they got 'rid' of him.

-

It'd been a while since he'd felt proper fear really, but that cold curling in his belly was most certainly it. It was followed by a flash of *want* so strong it would have taken his breath away... if he'd had any. Instead he shifted back slightly, to eye 'Red' up carefully, mind racing to try and work out what the hell had given him away, and oh crap had anyone else noticed?

Just as he was getting ready to properly freak the fuck out, the faint memory of why he'd left South Park all those years ago caught his attention and Mike relaxed with a soft laugh, sliding back in his seat. His habit of carefully not thinking about his past might actually be detrimental now he was back here.

'Red' was still peering at his from across the table and he took a moment to re-assure himself, feeling that little click in his brain that was his instincts kicking back in and then smiled. As darkly as he could.

"Well... only if you're offering." He paused to rake hungry eyes over the Goth, lingering at the soft pulse of life at his neck. "Otherwise... consider it a loan? You can do me a favour some time."

-

Mustering his best Goth-glare, Dylan was silent a few moments deciding what he was going to do before slowly shaking his head and quietly repairing, still keeping his eyes on Mike. "I'll take the money, but I'm not going to owe you anything." He licked his lips. "I don't want to be anyone's bitch, especially over three bucks." Especially some conformist that he was sure wanted him dead after what had happened.

Suddenly, he wanted his group back *now*. There was something wrong with this situation... very wrong.

-

Mike grinned sharply, that warm glow of pride resurfacing and leant back in his seat, grabbing his cup on the way to drain the rest of it.

"Tell you what, we'll call it even if you tell me your name. I hate not knowing who I'm speaking to." He let that soft rumbling tint the end of his words again as 'Red's' scent wafted over to him briefly. Idly he flipped the wallet open, thumbing through the contents and then frowning slightly before pulling out a $10 note. "Here that should cover it, sorry it's the smallest I have."

-

"My name?" He quickly snatched the bill out of Mike's hand, not denying that he'd rather take charity then face a pissed waitress if he was caught taking their tips. "My name is Dylan." He mumbled before quickly standing up and heading to the front to pay. He wasn't planning on leaving after... He wanted to know why Mike was back. Still, getting the coffee payment over with was his main priority. When he slowly walked back to Mike's table, he felt a bit of anxiety leave him. Maybe too much so, as he sat (even just a couple inches) closer to Mike.

His shoulders slumped a bit and he leaned forward, his long fringe covering his face as he set the change on the table. "Thanks."

-

Mike smiled slightly, hiding it behind his coffee cup. He shrugged casually, watching Dylan carefully from across the table. Honestly he was more than a little surprised that the Goth hadn't taken the chance to leave, considering the way they'd last parted he hardly had many reasons to want to spend time in Mikes presence. Not that the vampire was in any way complaining.

The other boy seemed distracted, slightly too focused on his own coffee and Mike huffed in amusement, reaching across the table to push at the cup.

"So what is it then? That got you so distracted, Dylan." The faint rumble to his words was back unbidden, and Mike couldn't help smiling ever so slightly at the way is twisted the Goth's name.

-

The Goth's lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He kept staring at his newly refilled coffee as the steam slowly ceased.

Dylan flipped his hair out of his face to look, not glare, at Mike. His ease soon left him when he met with Mike's eyes once more. Finally, his mind registered the way he was spoken to and it took a minute before he bit his bottom lip again. He took in a deep breath and shook his head. "I've been here all night. I'm just... tired, I guess." He finished this glass of coffee in a couple swallows, now that it was cooler and looked outside. It was finally completely day light. Just fucking perfect.

-

He followed the other boy's line of sight and frowned slightly at the bright daylight outside. His skin itched ever so slightly in sympathy and without thinking about it, Mike shifted further back in his seat. He switched his focus back to Dylan again, smiling ever so slightly at the annoyed look on the Goth's face.

"It must be getting more than a little late for you to still be up." He spoke reluctantly, not really wanting to lose the company, it was a welcome distraction (and really, what was he thinking, spending the whole day sat here drinking coffee was not the best plan).

-

Dylan shook his head, "No, I'm used to this. We... My group, I mean... We come here and do this a lot. Almost every day." He leaned forward and looked towards the door again, as if they were going to walk back in and take him with them. Nope. "For years now." He leaned back and looked at Mike's cup. "You aren't drinking too much..."

He thought for a second, wondering if there was a way he could possibly benefit for... Oh wait. "Are you going to eat something? I assumed you were here for breakfast." He mumbled, shifting oddly in his seat.

-

He glanced down at the cup still clenched in his hand and bit back a slight grimace. The taste of it was getting old, especially so with the lovely scents drifting across the table to him. Mike laughed softly at the Goth's question, right, yeah, ordering something to eat would probably be a bit less suspicious then sitting here drinking coffee unenthusiastically all day. Briefly he flashed on the bag sat by his feet, he could probably pull his laptop out at some point, make it look like he was planning on doing some work here or something... had he remembered to pack the book? That might kill a bit more time too.

Across from him Dylan shifted in his seat again and Mike's head snapped up, distraction broken. He grinned slightly, a small deprecating thing, and reached across the booth to grab the (slightly sticky) menu, glancing at it briefly.

"Got any suggestions? It's been years since I was last in here..."

-

Dylan gave Mike a sidelong glance and shrugged, "Maybe the appetizer platter? I don't actually *eat* here much, but that'll let you have a lot to try." And share. Dylan tried to silence his stomach when it grumbled, blushing slightly when he knew it was audible. "Uh..." Whelp. Now he knew his intentions must be known. "And I can just take some." He said softly.

-

The rush of heat through his belly at the soft human sounds of hunger surprised him a little, and Mike froze slightly, fingers tightening on the menu. With a soft sound he set the menu down, glancing up at the boy across from him and then grinned sharply.

"Sounds like a plan then." He glanced around the diner, noting a few new faces wearily and then caught the waitress's attention. Mike grimaced slightly as she re-filled their coffees apparently automatically and then placed the order, waiting until she was (mostly) out of earshot before letting a small snarl twist his lips. The woman seemed to breathe disdain and it was starting to wear on his patience.

Suddenly aware of Dylan, he bit the snarl off, grabbing up his cup and taking a gulp of the hot liquid. It scalded slightly, but the burn was actually sort of pleasant.

"So..." He floundered slightly, out of practice at normal conversation, then strove on. "Anything new and interesting going on in South Park I should know about?" And promptly grimaced, damn, he really was rusty at this.

-

The Goth drew his eyebrows together slightly, his lips unconsciously parting again when Mike seemed to be trying to burn a hole in the back of the waitress' head. "Uh... Not... really." He took another sip of the hot coffee, not even noticing he did it until his tongue felt as if it had blistered. To make the situation worse, the shock of the burn caused him to drop the coffee in his lap. After staring at the spill for a moment in horror, he quickly reached for napkins to get it off him.

Of course, this had to happen in front of the vampfag. Now the Goth was just pissed and humiliated. "Fuck it! I'm going home!" He tried to hide the redness of his face with his hair as he stood up.

-

He blinks, taken back by the sudden explosion of movement across from him and it takes Mike a moment or two to work out what the hell just happened. And by then Dylan was standing, hair sliding over his face and Mike growls, low enough that he hopes the human won't really notice, hand shooting out to grab at the Goth's wrist, holding it just that bit too tight.

"Relax."

He slides out of the booth smoothly, fingers still wrapped around the other boys wrist and after a quick assessment of the situation he yanks Dylan towards the Diners bathroom, skirting the small patches of sunlight carefully. The bathroom is... not as clean as enhanced senses have him wishing it was, but it's all artificial lighting so Mike relaxes slightly, giving Dylan a slight shove towards the sinks.

"For fucks sake, wash it off before you burn yourself." And he lets a little bit of command slip into his voice, hoping vaguely that this would be one of the times when these damn 'powers' worked right. He... really didn't want to spend more time alone here then he had to.

-

When Mike grabbed his wrist Dylan was ready snap at him, but before a word of protest could be spoken, he was being dragged to the restroom. Dylan grinded his teeth a bit as he was shoved toward the sink. "It's a bit fucking late for that!" He retorted as snottily as he could while in pain. Still, he found himself grabbing a bunch of paper towels and wetting them down, trying to get as much of it off as he could.

"Thank god my pants are black." He growled, more to himself than anything. He was in no position to be ruining pants and... Extra laundry meant extra effort.

He groaned when he looked back into the mirror. "It looks like I pissed myself." He looked around the bathroom, seeing no hand-driers, only more paper towels.

-

"It's not that bad, stop fussing." Mike huffed, snagging a handful of towels from the dispenser and passing them to the other boy. "It'll dry quickly enough."

He leant back against the nearest sink, watching the Goth from out the corner of his eye, fighting back the smirk that wanted to twist his lips. So close Dylan's scent was distracting, all heat and anger and... Uh, coffee. Mostly coffee at this point actually. Mike bit back a laugh at that, the smell suited him almost perfectly.

"Any better?" His voice was rougher then he meant it to be.

-

"I don't know." He said quietly, staring at his crotch as if willing it to be dry. This situation couldn't be more embarrassing, he was sure of it. After throwing the paper towels in the general direction of the trash can, he started to dig through his pockets, searching for his cigarettes. Sure, it wasn't entirely legal, but fuck legality. He quickly lit up, taking a long slow drag to calm himself. He turned to offer one to Mike.

"Want one? Or are you still too good for this sort of thing?"

-

"You know, I've never tried yet." He laughed softly, reaching out to pluck the cigarette from the other boy's fingers, regarding it cautiously before shrugging. Well hell, it wasn't like the damn thing could do him any harm any more. Unlit, the cig smelt musty and slightly sweet and Mike rolled it between his fingers before leaning forward to the offered light. Lit, it was slightly disappointing, tasting mostly like chemicals really, but the heat of it was lovely, stretching his throat and lungs.

Not bad really.

-

Dylan paused and chuckled softly in disbelief. "You... take quite easily to smoking. Are you smoking something else? You didn't even cough." The Goth eyed Mike up and down, trying to think of something he might /actually/ smoke. Certainly not weed... maybe incense? ...

Can you smoke that?

-

He grinned slightly, taking another drag on the cig and enjoying the heat of it, before shaking his head.

"Nah, guess I just sort of, take to things quickly really." Lazily he kicked his legs out in front of himself, settling back on the sink behind him more heavily as he studied the slowly burning stick in his hand. It really wasn't bad at all, and he couldn't quite remember why he'd been so worked up about them before.

-

Before Dylan could reply, he found himself staring at a mirror. The one behind Mike. The one that didn't hold the boys reflection. The mirror that reflected everything in the repulsive bathroom, but the person Dylan expected it to.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to say something, anything to Mike. Was it a trick?

He blinked and shook his head a bit, trying to meet the other's eyes. "Uh... You're, um... You're not..."

-

Mike was still distracted by the slowly burning cigarette in his hand, struck by an odd sense of nostalgic disappointment at never actually having a chance to try one for the first time properly. When it would still have actually, well affected him. So it took him a couple of seconds to pick up on the other boys odd tone of voice, cautiously, he looked over at the Goth, taking in the shocked expression and uneasy air.

"I'm not what?" His voice deepened slightly, something about Dylan's current mood setting him on edge and he shifted against the edge of the sink until he had a firmer grip underfoot, muscles tightening in anticipation.

-

Dylan laughed awkwardly, trying to figure out how Mike was doing it. Really? No reflection? What, is he a ghost?

The Goth slowly lifted his arm to point at the mirror, not able to find the words to say what was happening. He started walking backwards, nerves just telling him to leave as quickly as he could... body telling him that he physically couldn't move more than a couple inches in a second.

-

Dylan's nervousness was rubbing off on him and Mike twisted round slightly to look at what the Goth was pointed at... and promptly felt his blood run cold. If his heart had still worked he was pretty sure it would have stopped, and he snarled, instantly utterly ashamed that he could do something so completely *stupid*. Mirrors, how could he forget the fucking mirrors in a fucking bathroom?

In the reflection he could see Dylan (right where *his* reflection should have been damn it) edging slowly away and Mike froze for a moment, mind racing through the possibility's. He didn't really see the other boy as the type to run screaming for help... but then, he really couldn't risk it either. With another, louder, snarl he spun round, springing forward until he was close enough to grab Dylan's arm and tug him close. The boys scent hit him hard, all heat and panic and it took almost everything he had not to just bite. Instead he schooled his expression into something more calm and stood still, staring down at the Goth, waiting to see how the other boy would react.

-

Dylan yelped when Mike lunged for him, grabbing his arm tightly (at least to the Goth it was!) and pulling him close. He couldn't move at all now, the confusion of Mike not being in the mirror replaced with complete terror of how the boy was now acting. Trembling, he stood helpless, staring up at his attacker.

He couldn't think of what school had said to do in this sort of situation... or if they even *did*. He swallowed hard, trying to no avail to scream.

Instead, his mind went a bit blank, as if he was trying to go on autopilot. "Let go." He whispered, quickly facing the ground, avoiding Mike's expression. He couldn't read it and that just scared him. What the hell was happening?

-

Dylan's words took him by surprise and Mike let go of the other boy quickly, hands dropping to hover by his sides, ready to grab the Goth should he try to leave. Fear bit at the back of his brain and Mike closed his eyes briefly, fighting back the need to lash out in response. He shivered and glanced off to the side and the mirror, still mockingly without his own reflection. The forgotten cigarette was still clenched between his fingers, a little worse for the wear now and Mike huffed softly, taking a drag on it before flipping it round to offer to Dylan wordlessly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt. Still not so sure of my own strength sometimes." His voice was still low, the rasp of the hunter in it and he snapped his mouth closed sharply when he recognized the slight itch of his fangs dropping. Shit, he really had no idea how he was going to get out of this one, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt the damn Goth, aside from how much trouble it'd cause for him to leave the bathroom on his own, he kinda liked having the company. Dylan wasn't half bad when he wasn't tying him up and throwing him into the back of cars.

-

Dylan stood still, staring at the ground. The last thing he wanted now was a cigarette, unless it was used against his skin in an attempt to wake him up. But for now, he would had to think a mile a minute to try and figure out what to do, how to get out of here and what... what Mike was.

His voice was only a bit above a whisper when he finally decided to reply. "So what is this? What... are you?"

-

With a muted snarl he tossed the cigarette across the room, old instincts making him pinch the end out first. Slowly he turned back to look at Dylan from under lowered eyelids, lips pressed together tightly and then paused, slowly going through his options in his head as the other boy squirmed.

Then instinct kicked in and he moved forward, backing the Goth up until his back was to the wall and Mike could lean into his personal space, eyes heavy. He licked his lips briefly and then grinned, knowing full well that too long canines would be on show.

"Do you really want me to answer that one Dylan?" He shifted his weight again, voice heavy with promise and trying to catch the other boys eyes. Slightly hopeful that he might be able to impress on him enough that the Goth would keep quiet about, well, everything really. He *really* didn't want to have to kill the kid, especially considering just how good he smelt this close up.

-

"Oh fuck." was the first thing on his mind and the first thing to leave his mouth. He didn't notice how the cold, cheap wallpaper that lined the bathroom walls chilled his entire back. Still, the shivers that ran down his spine were certainly not because of the wall. "How... how is that... I-I mean, you even said that you weren't... this isn't possible!"

He wanted to run. Gods, how badly he wanted to run. When he looked into Mike's eyes, though, all he could do is shut up and hope he would make it out alive. "Are you... are you going to ki-... kill..."

-

Fuck the Goth smelt good. So much so that Mike found himself leaning in closer, snuffling ever so slightly. Dimly he caught the other boy's words but it was the stuttering tone that got through to him and he pulled back sharply, reaching up to wrap cool fingers around Dylan's throat lightly.

"That honestly depends on what you're planning on doing next." He squeezed ever so slightly briefly, more a warning than anything else. "I'm not planning on killing you, don't particularly want to Per se. But... I can't really let you walk out of here if you're planning on telling everyone. Sorry, I just don't really feel like dying again today. So you've got a choice really, you can come back to the table with me, help me eat whatever shit this place calls food and not fucking make a scene. Or... or I can bite you." He leant forward again at this, teeth ghosting over Dylan's pulse point before moving up to the other boys ear, "If it helps, either way I'll make it good for you."

... where the *fuck* had that come from.

-

When sharp teeth grazed Dylan's neck, he let out a gasp and his back arched off the wall. There was something strangely appealing now, in something that just seconds ago he greated feared.

Then again, horror was far from gone and there was little to keep the Goth's stomach from both fluttering with this odd new... thing and turning with the fear of his life ending. Mike said that he didn't want to kill him and that was something he hoped was true.

"I-I'm hungry!" He actually didn't feel the hunger pains in his stomach anymore, but his mixed feelings told him to delay what he was praying wasn't inevitable and get back out in public.

Dylan kept his hands steady by digging his nails into the wall behind him. "Let's... uh... just... just go back out." He whimpered softly and bit his lower lip. "Please."

-

It took a surprising amount of effort to pull himself away from the stammering boy, his stomach was tight, teeth aching maddeningly, but he hadn't been lying when he said he didn't want to kill Dylan. His hand lingered on the other boys throat as he pulled away and he grinned softly at the soft sound the Goth made in response.

"Yeah, we can do that. Just... gimme a second." Mike stepped back as he spoke, moving to lean against the bathroom sink again, watching Dylan from half-lidded eyes as he tried to calm down enough for his fangs to recede again. Part of him wanted to see what the Goth would do without his immediate threat, really if the other boy was going to turn on him first chance he got, it'd be better to have it happen now. Where he could still do something about it. Well something that didn't involve killing everyone in the damn diner.

-

Even with Mike across the bathroom, staring at him and nothing else, Dylan knew that he wouldn't be able to make it out of the door in time to assure that he wouldn't be caught. The way that Mike had sped towards Dylan before... grabbing his arm... It was definitely not human. Obviously not human.

The Goth didn't want to believe anything he was seeing and tried to reassure himself that this was a dream and he'd wake up at home or against the school wall, next to Evan. This just... couldn't be real.

He tried to get comfortable against the wall, but just ended up shifting quite a bit. He mumbled softly, figuring that Mike would be able to hear it anyway, "What are we waiting for?" He didn't particularly like being stared at... especially with this new... discovery.

-

Mike too a deep, shaky breath and then pushed away from the sinks, running a hand through his hair half-heartedly.

"Nothing. It's fine." The itching in his teeth had died down by now, and a quick pass of his tongue over them proved that they had settled back to a normal human length. He stretched slightly and then grinned at Dylan, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room. "Come on then, they're probably wondering what we're up to by this point." The words were a lot more suggestive then he'd meant them to be and Mike grimaced, spinning round before the other boy could catch it and made his way for the door and back out into the diner.

The waitress noticed him almost instantly, shooting him a sour look and Mike returned it, suddenly in no mood to deal with her. He settled back into the booth again, poking at his now cold coffee cup with displeasure.

-

Dylan's mind rushed, trying to figure out an escape route that would have him out of the restaurant and at home, safe. Almost immediately, he noticed the careful way Mike maneuvered around the sunlight... So Vampires didn't sparkle in the sun? Surprise, surprise.

It was his best bet. If this really was a weakness for Mike, then Dylan would have no problem, just walking home. The sun was high and bright and there was no way anyone could jump shadow to shadow, avoiding the sun completely.

He eyed Mike's back and slowly walked into the rays of sun, stopping a few feet from the door, waiting for Mike to notice. He wanted to make sure that sun really *was* a weakness and he would get outside, just to get dragged into an alley.

He wrapped his arms around his stomach subconsciously and watched Mike, the rays of light surrounding him.

-

It took him a couple of moments to realise Dylan wasn't following him back to the booth and he glanced up, slight feeling of dread building in him. The other boy was stood by the diner's door in a patch of god damn sunlight watching him and Mike snarled. It took a moment of hesitating before he could gather the courage to walk over to the Goth, stopping just short of where the sunlight streamed in. Mildly aware of eyes watching them, he schooled his expression to something more calm, smiling with just a bit too much tooth on show.

"You off then?"

-

Dylan made sure to avoid looking at the vampire, not wanting to lose his nerve before he made his escape. He slowly turned around, silently... Before he realized what he was doing, he had bolted out of the restaurant and started running home.

-

Despite the annoyance at being left on his own, Dylan's reaction to him was actually mildly flattering and Mike laughed softly, shaking his head as he returned to the booth. A fresh cup of coffee and the damn food he'd ordered was waiting for him and he eyed them both disdainfully before settling down. For a moment he just stared at the offending items blankly then pushed them off to the side, reaching down to pull his laptop from the half-forgotten bag.

Hell, if he was stuck in here until dark he might as well get something useful done. He was a little mollified to find the diner had an open wifi, and he settled down, instantly starting a search for somewhere to stay. It... was going to be a long day.


End file.
